


Reality Is A Lovely Place But I Wouldn't Want To Live There

by MissMoochy



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), The Defenders (Comic), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, Coitus Interruptus, Disguise, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, Jealous Matt Murdock, Jealousy, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Foggy Nelson, Secret Crush, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Matt has been introducing Foggy to his new superhero buddies. It's nice, but what Foggy really wants is for Matt to introduce his body to Foggy's body. He dreams about it day and night. This crush is killing him, but then an unexpected friend tells Foggy of a way he can live out his fantasies without harming anybody.
Relationships: Franklin "Foggy" Nelson/Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

Life had changed a lot since Matt joined a team. The Defenders were a ragtag bunch, but Foggy respected what they were doing. Jessica was okay, Luke seemed decent and Danny was nice enough. At some point, the group must have exchanged secret identities because they referred to Matt by his real name. Matt had reluctantly introduced Foggy to them, and it had now reached the point where Foggy would hear a knock on the door of his apartment and open it up to find one of the team, bleeding heavily and nodding politely at him. He restocked his first aid kit on a weekly basis.

Their friendship had to take the backseat and that was…fine. Matt seemed happier now, or at least, full of purpose. He believed in the team and what they were hoping to achieve, and Foggy felt better, knowing that Matt had three more people looking out for him. The other Defenders had been slow to trust Foggy at first, but it was getting to that point where Foggy would roll out of bed at 3:00 AM to visit the bathroom, and he’d see Jessica sitting on his couch, watching infomercials and drinking his beer. He’d groggily wave to her and then stagger back to bed.

Of course, The Defenders weren’t the only vigilantes around, and they crossed paths with a few, which is how Foggy met Wade Wilson.

* * *

One day, Foggy was watching _Wheel of Fortune_ and working his way through a family-size of Cheetos when there was a knock on the door. He got up, peered through the peephole to see Daredevil’s blank, red stare.

“Oh, shit! Just a second!”

The group filtered in. Jessica swaggered by already en-route to the fridge, Matt came in and hovered awkwardly by the door, and Luke entered the room, carrying an enormous lump of red fabric. Danny was absent.

“Hi, guys, what’s going on?”

Jessica wasted no time on small talk, she never did. “Are you up for babysitting duty?”

“Depends. Who am I babysitting?”

Luke dumped the red mound on the couch and as it made a faint moan of pain, Foggy realised it was a person. A man. Every inch of his skin was covered in red leather and kevlar, his hands were gloved and his face was hidden by a strange red and black mask.

“This joker thought he’d tag along, try to help us. He took a lot of bullets and hit his head. He needs somewhere to lie low for a few hours.” Jessica said, and she gave the lump a kick. It groaned.

“Um, no, he needs the hospital, are you insane?”

“Deadpool has healing powers,” Luke explained. “He recovers. Fast.”

“Healing power…” Foggy said faintly. “Few hours…that, that must be a very, aggressive healing power…”

“It is. Look after him, try not to let him get under your skin,” Jessica said. She grabbed a handful of Cheetos and stuffed them in her mouth. “Guys, let’s go.”

“Thanks, Foggy,” Matt said, briefly touching Foggy’s arm before he left.

Right. Okay. Deadpool.

* * *

Once Foggy was left alone with the unfamiliar vigilante, he took a minute to study him. The man was tall and broad, closer to Luke’s build than Danny’s. The red jumpsuit didn’t leave much to the imagination, it seemed almost moulded to his body. The whole thing was littered with tears, revealing pink, bloodied skin underneath. But the blood had dried and Deadpool’s breathing sounded consistent. His huge chest rose and fell with equal, even breaths, and as Foggy sat down and watched him, the breath began to sound less raspy and more…normal. Maybe he _was_ healing, as Luke had claimed.

It didn’t seem like Deadpool was in any immediate danger, so Foggy returned to daytime television, keeping an ear out for the faint breathing.

* * *

“Fuck me, that hurt!”

Foggy jumped about a foot in the air, then realised the voice was coming from beside him. He turned, heart pounding, to see Deadpool sitting up, mask turned towards the television screen. Foggy had been idly watching a quiz show, but it hadn’t held his interest. Now, there was something more important to attend to.

“Deadpool? You’re up?”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Deadpool turned his head this way and that, his odd mesh eyes taking in the sparsely-decorated living room. “Where are we? Last thing I remember, I was getting bullets up my ass.”

"You passed out. The Defenders brought you here. To recuperate.”

“The Defenders! I love those guys! So serious. So attractive. Ooh, let’s play fuck, marry, kill. Oh no, wait, you need three people for that, and the Defenders are four. Well, we’ll let Iron Fist sit this one out. He’s, like, the lamest one.”

Deadpool was nice enough to explain everything. The threat they’d been up against (arms dealers) and the fight that had ensued. He even explained the range of his powers. That wasn’t something that The Defenders did. They only gave him necessary information, leading him to guess or work out the rest.

* * *

When the gang returned, Foggy was deep in a game of Exploding Kittens with Deadpool. Deadpool was apparently called Wade Wilson, he was Canadian, Scorpio and liked PB&J sandwiches, _Golden Girls_ and the taste of latex. He shared these revelations voluntarily, to Foggy’s surprise. It was weird to go from having someone like Matt who cherished their secret identity and then encounter folk like Wade and Jessica who had no issue with people knowing their names or faces.

Wade had conjured up the pack of cards from one of the many pouches on his jumpsuit and had helped himself to the contents of Foggy’s refrigerator while Foggy familiarised himself with the rules. This was their third match.

The Defenders trooped in, most likely tracking blood and dirt onto his carpet. Whatever. Foggy wasn’t above sending Iron Fist a dry cleaning bill. That guy had deep pockets.

“How did it go?” Foggy said without looking up from his cards. He had a good hand. At least, he thought so. It was hard to tell.

“Ugh. You got booze?” Jessica asked but she was already heading to the kitchen. You could probably drop her in prohibition-era America and she’d be able to sniff out the local speakeasy.

“Did the arms dealers give you any trouble?” Wade asked. He’d stretched out on the couch and was taking up far too much space, leaving Foggy pressed to the side. Wade was simply too big for the couch and had insisted on resting his legs on Foggy’s lap.

“No, we got them,” Matt said. He shuffled over and perched on the end of the couch, by Foggy. “How are you feeling?”

Foggy almost responded, until he guiltily realised Matt was addressing Wade.

Wade stretched out like a cat, still half-lying on his generous host. Foggy felt the calf muscles roll, they felt rock-hard. “Gucci, all things considered. All I needed was a nap. I should probably head on back to _Casa De Deadpool.”_

Foggy tried to squash down the sting of disappointment. Wade was a funny guy, crazy but good crazy, and he’d been a hoot, watching TV and yelling at the gameshow hosts. “You can stay ‘til the end of the match,” Foggy told him and Wade made a pleased sound.

* * *

By listening in to conversations, Foggy gleaned a few details. Apparently, The Defenders had no plans to absorb Wade into their ranks, but he stuck to them like glue, they couldn’t shake him off. And they grudgingly admitted that he could be useful. He and Luke were basically bullet-immune, seeing as how Luke’s skin couldn’t be harmed and Wade could easily walk off a stab or bullet wound.

From then on, Foggy began to see Wade show up at his apartment, just as often as the rest of the gang.

* * *

Wade was erratic, boisterous and…completely charming. Foggy couldn’t help himself for laughing at the merc’s idiotic jokes or his pratfall stunts. Foggy had come to the impression that Wade, for all his nonchalance, felt a little sorry for Foggy. He mentioned, in passing, that it must suck to not have powers when your best friend did. Wade had a best friend that he spoke of, a guy named Weasel, who wasn’t a mutant. But Wade also was good friends with Spider-Man. The way Wade spoke of Spider-Man, it ventured on adoring. His voice would lighten, as if his vocal cords were lined with gold. He regaled Foggy with tales of his adventures with the webbed wonder. They’d battled an evil hypnotic felon called the Hypno-Hustler, a shapeshifting villain who called himself Chameleon and a…

“Hit…Monkey? What? What is a Hit Monkey?”

“He’s a monkey, but he gets paid to…you know. Separate heads from bodies.” Wade made a slashing motion with his arms.

Foggy wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Is he a mutant? Is he a man with monkey DNA or something?”

“This ain’t _Umbrella Academy!_ No, he’s just a monkey. A monkey in a suit.”

Foggy smiled, shaking his head. “I’ve listened to a lot of your tales but this is _one_ shaggy dog story—”

“Shaggy monkey story! Sorry.” Wade chimed in. He mimed zipping his lips and neatly folded his hands in his lap.

“—that I don’t believe, Wade.”

“It’s true! Spidey took a photo with him. When I next see him, I’ll ask him to gimme the photo so I can show you.”

Foggy smiled. “I’d like that. Can I ask you a question?”

Wade aimed one of his guns at the ceiling. Foggy hoped to God that the safety was on. “Shoot.”

“Why do you always wear that costume? Even Matt takes his mask off when he’s here.”

Wade looked away. “Uh, trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“I do!”

“You don’t.”

“Are you self-conscious about how you look? Because, I gotta say, if I had a body like yours, I wouldn’t hide it,” _Shut up, Foggy, what are you doing? Don’t flirt with the merc. Don’t even think of flirting with the merc. You’re already hopelessly in love with one mutant vigilante, don’t amass a collection!_

“I appreciate that,” Wade said seriously. “But it’s not like that. I was some British fucker’s guinea pig, they experimented on me. That’s how I got my powers. It left my face looking all kinds of messed-up. My body too. Damn, I had a really nice face. Before. People used to tell me I looked like Ryan Reynolds.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Foggy said but Wade made a faint, miserable whimper. He wasn’t sitting in his usual style, half-draped over Foggy. Now, he was sat as far from him as he could on the couch, as if afraid of the proximity. “I won’t unmask you, you know I wouldn’t do that. I just…I want you to be comfortable here.”

“Fuck it, might as well get it over with. You promise you won’t freak?” At Foggy’s nod, Wade squared his shoulders and sat up a little straighter. “Okay. Get ready for the horrorshow.” He lifted his hands to the back of his neck, fidgeted a bit and then fabric fell down.

_Oh._

“It’s not that bad,” Foggy said earnestly, as Wade ducked his head. “I’m not going to lie and say it’s not noticeable but it could be worse. I like your teeth. They’re very white.”

“Thanks.” Wade said cautiously, but he shifted in his seat, turned to face Foggy. Foggy rather felt like he was trying to tempt a squirrel into scampering closer. “I try to take good care of ‘em.”

Foggy cast his eyes over the ravaged skin, the gentle laughter lines, the deep, brown eyes. Eyes that reminded him of another vigilante. “I like your eyes. I like the colour.”

“Thanks,” Wade said again, scooching even closer. He was so close now, that Foggy could see every scar and bump, every break of the skin. There was one thing left that wasn’t scarred or mangled. “I like your lips.”

“Thanks,” Wade breathed and then there was warmth on Foggy’s mouth, a drag of rough skin. He leant into it, dazedly kissed back, feeling dry, chapped lips rake over his own lips, making them tingle. But thoughts of dark hair and pale skin swam in his mind and he pushed on Wade’s chest, breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry.”

Wade sprang back as if he’d been burnt. Maybe he had been. “It’s…totally fine. I wouldn’t kiss this face either. Don’t apologise, dude, I get it.”

“No, it’s not your face. I…I have feelings for somebody. I try to cover them up, pretend they’re not there but…I can’t. No matter what I do, all I think about is him.”

“Hmm,” Wade’s face softened. “This mystery guy. He wouldn’t happen to be a blind, ninja lawyer, would he?”

“Maybe. There’s a lot of them around.” Foggy said nonsensically, while inwardly panicking. His instinct was to trust Wade, but he’d revealed an intimate secret and he was floundering.

“It’s all good, your secret is safe with me. I think you should go for it. You and Matt make sweet, beautiful music together.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t feel the same way. I wish…never mind.”

Wade threw a tree-trunk arm around Foggy’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Ah, no, we don’t do that here. You were gonna say something. Tell your Uncle Wade what’s on your mind.”

Foggy sighed and Wade leant forward in anticipation. He might as well tell him, Wade already knew the worst of it. “I just wish I knew what it would be like to sleep with him. See his face as he comes. I think I could die happy. I’d be fine with being friends with him because I’d have that memory to live on. Being around him, seeing what I can’t have, it _kills_ me. It’s like I’m starving. But if I had one happy memory of being with him, I think it would fuel me. Does that sound crazy?”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all,” Wade said. “In fact, that gives me an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Wade’s lightbulb moment, he didn’t elaborate on what his ‘idea’ was and Foggy was too polite to grill him on it. He was burning with curiosity though and to be honest, flattered that Wade cared enough to want to help him. He didn’t believe that Wade would be able to offer any help, either practical or intangible. Wade was a clumsy guy, not really suited to talking about matters of the heart and it’s not like the problem could be solved by him slashing somebody with his katana.

So, life resumed as normal.

Except, after their discussion, Wade was hanging around Foggy’s apartment more than ever.

Foggy might grumble when he entered his kitchen to see Wade sitting there, but he secretly appreciated the company. Matt was apparently working on some intricate operation with the rest of The Defenders, so Foggy wasn’t seeing much of him these days.

Wade didn’t have a packed schedule and he was rapidly turning into a permanent fixture in the apartment. When it was just the two of them, Wade could be persuaded to remove his mask. But the moment one of The Defenders would stride in, the mask would be back on. It wasn’t just a physical mask, Foggy realised. There was a clear line between Wade Wilson and Deadpool. Both personas were humorous, optimistic, a little wild, but Wade Wilson was more laid-back. He could be serious, on occasion. He didn’t feel the need to fill the air with curse words or jokes.

* * *

It was one night, as Foggy was trying to find something good on Netflix for the two of them to watch (he eventually settled on _Doctor Who)_ that he had a startling epiphany. Wade was his _friend._ Deadpool, the immortal, illegal mercenary, was Foggy Nelson’s good friend. Somehow, that was more shocking than the kiss they’d shared.

He buried himself in his takeout. They were eating plates of curry off their knees, watching The Tenth Doctor amble around onscreen.

Wade swallowed his forkful of rice and cleared his throat. “So, Matt Murdock, then? He’s what gets you hard, huh?”

 _Subtle, Wade._ “It’s more than that. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

Foggy thought about it before he answered. “He’s… _incredible._ He’s smart, his brain fires so quickly, he strings ideas together so fast. And that’s not mutant power, that’s just him. And he really believes in what he’s doing. He’s willing to risk everything to help a person in need. I never approved of what he was doing, but then I realised it was something he _had_ to do. And I appreciate him trying to make the streets safer. Although, I do wish somebody else could do it instead of him.”

“Because he’s blind? You don’t want a blind guy risking his neck?”

“It’s nothing to do with his blindness. He’s…he’s important to me.”

Wade whistled, low and drawn-out. “Daaamn. You’ve got it bad,”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You remember when I told you about Spider-Man? Me and Spider-Man?”

“You said you fought a monkey assassin with him. I still don’t believe you.”

“Hey! Hit Monkey is due to return. Trust me. Anyway, I didn’t mean our legendary battles. I meant the guy behind the mask. Can I tell you about him?”

“Yeah, of course. Whatever you’re allowed to tell. I know Spider-Man prefers to remain anonymous.”

“He does. I try to respect it. So, Spidey is wicked smart. He designed his webs, himself. Cooked them up in a lab!”

“I didn’t know that. That’s really cool.”

“Yup, he’s a proper whizkid. He’s got book smarts and sweet moves, a great sense of humour, we have a lot of fun riffing off each other’s jokes. And he’s got an ass that won’t quit, seriously, the most beautiful thing…” Wade made some vulgar gestures with his hands that might have been an attempt at depicting the size of Spider-Man’s butt.

“You love him?”

Wade sighed. “I do. Fuck me, I do. But he’s not…and it’s okay, you know? I’m not one of those guys who hold out hope for something they can’t have, I’m not like that. When I know I can’t have something, I’m like ‘Okay, universe, thanks for lettin’ me know!’ and I’m off on the next great adventure. I like being his friend. Being Spider-Man’s friend is an awesome thing, I just…”

“It would be nice if things were different?”

“Yeah,”

Foggy laughed humourlessly. “Look at us. A couple of heartsick idiots. In love with some beautiful hero who will never love us back.”

Wade twisted in his seat to look at him. “Do you feel jealous? That Matt’s got all these cool new super-powered peeps to hang with, leaving you in the dust?”

“No! No way! Matt is my best friend. I might not be able to...to walk through walls or have x-ray vision, but I’m an important part of his life and he’s important to me too. We’ve been best friends since college.” Maybe he sounded a bit defensive, but it was a dumb question for Wade to ask. Matt and Foggy were bros for life. That’s an unbreakable bond.

“Okay. Didn’t ask to hear the origin story for your bromance, but whatever,” Wade said, but he grinned to show he was joking.

There was a question he’d been dying to ask, and he figured, now would be the opportunity. It’s not like anybody would know that he’d said it. He trusted Wade with this. “Has he ever mentioned me? To you guys?”

Wade shrugged. “I can honestly say he has never mentioned you. Besides ‘Oh, we’ll hide out at my friend’s apartment for a while.’ ”

“Oh. I...guess that’s a good thing? No news is good news.”

“Totally.” **  
  
**Foggy didn’t have anything to say to that, so he fell silent and the room stayed like that, both he and Wade in their little bubble. Watching the flickering television screen but not giving it their full attention. Finally, Wade spoke.

“I love Spidey but I know when I’m beaten. His little, tiny, spidery heart doesn’t ache for me. Que sera sera. I want to get over him.”

Foggy raised his eyebrows. “Do you think you _can?”_

“I dunno. But I’d like to try? Come on, you and me, we’re both hot-blooded guys. I don’t mind you using me while you think about Matt.”

Was it a bad sign that he was tempted? Okay, Wade was no oil painting, but he was funny and good company and had muscles to die for. And it would be nice to be desired again. “I don’t know. That feels kind of…soulless.”

“Nah, it’ll be fun. I won’t beg you but if you change your mind, call me.”

It didn’t occur to Foggy to insist that he _wouldn’t_ change his mind. Instead, he said: “I don’t have your number…”

“Really? Oh, my bad.” And then Wade had reached over, grabbed Foggy’s cellphone off the armrest and typed his number in.

* * *

The next morning, Foggy woke to hear voices in the next room. He sleepily threw on a dressing gown and ambled in. He’d offered Wade the couch the night before, and Wade had gratefully accepted. He claimed that he slept better when he was at Foggy’s.

He walked in to see Matt, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage and Danny Rand.

“It’s a bit early, isn’t it? The sun’s barely up,” Foggy croaked. Wade was curled up on the couch, a thick knitted blanket thrown over him, but he stirred at the sound of voices. One gloved hand crept out of the blanket to snag his mask, so he could put it on before he faced them.

“We’ve been working for hours,” Matt rasped and shit, he sounded exhausted. “We’re trying to track down some drug smugglers, we followed a couple of them all over the city but they gave us the slip.”

“Well, you look like a dead man walking. How about I rustle up some breakfast? Even super-scary heroes need to eat, right?”

Matt’s lips creased in a gentle smile, under his mask. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

* * *

Foggy sent Wade out to buy breakfast ingredients, then he got to work. The Defenders awkwardly grouped around Foggy’s tiny kitchen table as he laid down plates of egg and bacon sandwiches.

“One for Danny Boy, and there you are, Jessica…and Luke and—”

“Do I get any?” Wade piped up, looming behind Foggy. He was wearing his usual jumpsuit but had rolled his mask up to his nose, in anticipation of being fed. He was like a big, excitable mutt, Foggy thought with a fond smile. Too much strength and energy and no outlet for it.

“Yes, you do. Here you go, Murder Puppy,” As soon as he said it, he wondered why he had. But the name fit. Wade must have liked it because he grinned widely.

 _“Murder Puppy?_ Is that what I am?”

Foggy took his own plate of food to the couch and Wade followed him. They sat down together, balancing their plates on their knees. “You are. You’re a horrible, little murder puppy whose bark is worth than his bite.”

“But I’m a puppy, so that means I’m cute, right?”

Foggy smiled but hid his grin in his bite of sandwich. “I don’t know, not up for me to judge.”

The Defenders weren’t really talking, they must have been tired after patrolling all night. They mainly communicated through grunts and monosyllables as they devoured their breakfast, but Foggy still watched them, as he and Wade sat and ate. His new apartment was open plan, the kitchen and living space were in one room. While he sat there with Wade, he was constantly aware of Matt’s presence, only a few feet away. Matt was perched on a stool, with his back to the pair of them, but as Foggy and Wade talked, he saw Matt’s spine stiffen. His head tilted in that way familiar way. The way it did when he was intensely listening to something.

“But you like puppies?” Wade asked, chomping a big bite of his sandwich.

“What’s not to like? They’re adorable.”

“So you think I’m adorable? Aww, Foggy…”

“Shaddup.”

“You loooove me. You probably want to marry me!”

“I will stuff that sandwich down your throat, Wade!”

“Ooh, yeah, choke me, daddy!”

* * *

Foggy felt rather like a teary-eyed mother seeing her sons go off to war. He stood at the door, watching his terrible band of mutant morons traipse out of the room.

Every time he watched Matt walk away from him, he had to repress the insane urge to grab hold of him and keep him from leaving. He snorted. As if he could!

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Foggy, old pal,” Wade said winningly.

"Okay," Foggy smiled. "I'll get us something to drink and we'll put the TV on."

Matt poked his head around the door. After months of knowing his secret, Foggy still found the horns utterly stupid. But Matt always a flair for drama. “Actually, Deadpool, I was hoping you’d assist us? You’ve dealt with gangs before, right?”

“You guys want me to come with you?” Wade asked him, and the hope in his voice was like a gossamer strand of thread. Foggy felt strangely protective of him. If Matt or one of the others did something that hurt his feelings, Foggy was going to ream the hell out of them. Even without powers.

“Yeah,” Matt said, a stiff smile appearing on his face.

“Don’t wait up!” Wade crowed, pulling Foggy into a great, big bear hug. Then, he bounded out the door and after Matt.


End file.
